


Care package

by rromantic



Series: Purr-fect love universe [4]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Beam the cat, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5168021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rromantic/pseuds/rromantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This series is set in the Purr-fect love universe. You just need to know Brian and Justin got back together, and Justin moved into the loft, in Purr-fect love, which is an AU from 308 onwards. Justin has now been in LA for six months when he gets a ‘care package’ from home, which includes a surprise visit...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> R-rated, smoochy happiness, not a word of angst, except from Brian when he can’t get into Justin’s ass quick enough.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series is set in the Purr-fect love universe. You just need to know Brian and Justin got back together, and Justin moved into the loft, in Purr-fect love, which is an AU from 308 onwards. Justin has now been in LA for six months when he gets a ‘care package’ from home, which includes a surprise visit...

“Hey.”

"Did you get it?"

"Yes, the delivery guy just left. Hold on, I’m just moving to the couch… Brian, I can't believe you went to all this trouble!"

"I didn't. Now open up."

"I’m _trying_ to… Who wrapped this, anyway? It’s got more duct tape than that time you tie-"

“Justin, hurry the fuck up. I don’t have all day. My fucking art director called in sick, and these boards are for shi-“

“Fuckfuckfuck! …I fucking _hate_ paper cuts! This is not gonna work… I need scissors or a knife or something… which I don’t have… and a bandaid…”

“Will you stop being a drama que-“

“Hey, I’m bleeding here! Give me a minute! Jesus, you can be so impatient when I don’t open stuff as quickly as you want. I don’t know why you keep giving me wrapped things if you can’t stand waiti-… Got it.”

“Tell me.”

“Looks like there are a couple of packages inside… and they’re all wrapped as well, so you can just take a seat whi-“

“Justin, I swear if you don-”

" _Very_ weird shape… and soft… Brian? What's with the stuffed toy?"

"I can't believe you don't recognize it immediately, when you’ve had the real thing _hard_ up your ass so many times, even I have almost lost count.”

"No way. No fucking way! It's a stuffed _cock_?"

"Gus sends his love."

"Riiigghht. Gus got me a fluffy, blue dick."

"He says he doesn't want Justin to sleep alone.”

"And he chose it all by himself… You took a one-year-old to a sex shop?!"

“They don’t sell those at the Big Q. He might have had a little help, but not much. I just showed him what they had on the shelves, and he went for the biggest one. He has impeccable taste, which is a fucking miracle, given he's being raised by two munchers. And it goes with your eyes."

"Mel must have had a fit!"

"She probably would have if she knew."

"What else?… _'You've Got Male.'_ "

"God, that's bad, even for Theodore."

"He clearly doesn't agree with you about his taste in porn. Seems he has _big_ expectations for me, since here's a box of condoms to go with it."

"He went on and on about how they are 'ribbed for your pleasure.' As if he would know."

"Whatever. It's not like I'll be using them before I'm home again."

"Why, Sunshine, are you saving yourself for me?"

"Get over yours-… No wait, you're right. I should be out there in the clubs all hours of the night looking for a couple of hot guys to fuck me."

"…"

"Yeah, that’s what I figured."

"There should be more."

"Lemon bars… yuck… Make that _squashed_ lemon bars. You think Debbie will know if I don't eat them?"

"The Justin I know doesn't refuse to swallow."

"There are some things I like to put in my mouth more than others. The lemon bars didn't come with any of those."

"I'll tell Debbie you didn't appreciate her treat since it wasn't served up with my balls. I am so very proud of you for finally starting to watch your diet."

"I’ll call her myself, thank you. Oh, Christ, these are _small_!"

"There, see? Told you I had nothing to do with your _care package_. I don't do small."

"But you so do tight. And these… Fuck… I don't even want to think what must have gone through Emmett's mind when he bought these shorts. Have you seen them?"

"I just saw the pink. Emmett does have a point, though. It will be fucking hard to miss your ass in shocking pink shorts on the dance floor."

"You've never had any trouble finding my ass."

“Of course. But it will make it much easier for everyone else, so they can watch when I strip you and fuck you and make you come just by pushing you up against the wall.”

“That only happened once! And I was eighteen!”

“Age has nothing to do with it. Wear Emmett’s little crowd teaser next time we go dancing and I’ll show you.”

“They say memory is the first thing to go with age. You seem to forget how horny you got when I wore the black shorts you gave me for ‘Studs n Suds.’ God, we had barely set foot inside when you dragged me off to the back. I was sure you were going to throw me over your shoulder if I’d have dared to stop for a drink first. That might be the record for our quickest fuck.”

"…"

"Brian? You still there?"

"Any more packages? Is that it?"

“No. After that we danced for a bit, but you got this crazy look in your eyes when I tried to get closer. You were so hard, I wanted to suck you off right there. I think that’s when we decided to leave, right?”

“You were fucking hot.”

“I want to do it again.”

“Like I said, wear them the next time we go dancing.”

“And you’ll drag me off to the backroom?”

“Over my shoulder.”

“And you’ll push me against the wall, and pull them down. Not just over my hips, but all the way?”

“You’ll be out of them before your feet touch the ground.”

“And…”

“And I’ll push you against the wall, and fuck you and make you come with everyone watching.”

“Brian?”

“Mmm?”

“I miss you, you know.”

“How many presents left?”

"Don’t know… haven’t taken them all out yet. Brian...”

“I know. Me too. I will fuck you harder than I’ve ever fucked you, and you can suck my cock for as long as you want. But right now I have to find and fire whoever is responsible for this fuck-up with Dandylube’s boards… So quickly tell me what else you got.”

“Sunscreen… SPF 99 'for babies and sensitive skin', with a note… 'keep out of direct sunlight' … 'reapply every two hours' … 'ozone layer' … 'dehydrated' … 'love Ben, Michael and Hunter."

"Nothing about global warming and monks and Chinese herbs?"

"Looks like he ran out of space. Their names are scrawled really small at the bottom."

"Next."

" _Oooohhh_ … This _must_ be Mel and Lindz."

"Let me guess, candles and bath salts and shit?"

"Scented candles and sage and rosemary bubble bath. And shut up, you know you love it. I was a prune by the time you let me get out of the tub when we were in New York.”

“…”

"Is that everything?"

"You're the one holding the box."

"Where's yours?"

"My what?"

"What did you send me?"

"Tell me you didn't just ask if I got you a _present_."

"True. You would never send something along with gifts from other people. Not nearly dramatic and extravagant and spectacular enough. So what _did_ you get me?"

"Who says I got you anything?"

"I do. Because you wouldn't miss out on an opportunity to outshine everyone else."

"It wasn't that difficult."

"I'm right! I _knew_ it! You did get me something! When do I get it?"

"Saturday morning."

"But that's still days away! Why not 'til then?"

"Because that's when flight 1790 arrives at LAX."

"You? You're coming to see me? Really?"

"With the emphasize on ' _coming._ '"

"When?"

"Every time."

"That goes without saying. I meant what time does your flight land?"

"6:22 am."

"I'll be at the gate."

"Meet me in the men's room. And bring Theodore's pack of condoms."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series is set in the Purr-fect love universe. You just need to know Brian and Justin got back together, and Justin moved into the loft, in Purr-fect love, which is an AU from 308 onwards. Justin has now been in LA for six months when he gets a ‘care package’ from home, which includes a surprise visit...

_Los Angeles International Airport_

“Where are you?”

“Where you told me to be.”

“Stay there, I’m coming.”

“Already? That’s quick, even for you.” A dark head making its way through the crowd catches Justin’s attention, and with a wide grin, he waits until the hazel eyes find his before he closes his phone and turns away. Experience has taught him it’s much safer to ‘meet and greet’ Brian as far out of the public eye as possible, preferably out of hearing range as well. Not that it is just Brian’s enthusiasm that gets out of hand when they haven’t seen each other for a while. 

A shiver of anticipation runs down Justin’s spine, stirring his already hard cock into an even more alert state.

Brian doesn’t make idle threats when it comes to fucking... no matter where, no matter when... and Justin has met him at airports enough times to know it’s not a good idea to allow Brian the opportunity to choose their rendezvous venue. Chances are there won’t be a venue at all, just Brian kissing Justin’s breath away while pushing his hands inside the back of Justin’s jeans in the middle of the arrival hall. Wearing tighter pants doesn’t help. It only provides Brian with an incentive to immediately loosen his belt... or heaven forbid, if he isn’t wearing one, dive directly for his fly.

Justin chuckles at the memory as he hurriedly makes his way towards the men’s restroom he found earlier. That _little_ episode almost landed them in jail for indecent exposure. Brian said there was nothing indecent about his body, exposed or otherwise, but airport security was not amused with the touching reunion scene, and they were escorted out of the building under hot stares of a completely wrong kind.

It must have been the only time they made it to the car before they started groping each other. Usually, waiting until they're in the limo or at the hotel is never an option, which is why Justin has turned into a restroom connoisseur.

There is something incredibly hot about a bathroom stall and the thought of Brian fucking him up against it, even if his choice for today is the winner of LAX’s most run-down facilities. But it is cleaner than the backroom of Babylon, and the neglected state has the advantage of few people using it. It is also the most out of the way men’s room Justin could find while still staying within spitting distance from the baggage carousal where they need to pick up Brian’s luggage afterwards.

Reaching his destination, Justin casts a sly glance at the tall figure walking up to him and brushes his palm over the bulge between his legs, making sure Brian notices, before he shoves his shoulder against the door, sending the ‘Out of service’ sign swinging. If ever he could appreciate a stroke of luck it was for finding a maintenance closet inside the very _un_ -maintained restroom.

He has barely set foot inside when strong arms grab him from behind. The smell of disinfectant and sickeningly sweet air-freshener flees into dark corners, leaving him cocooned in what can only be termed _Brian_ … Brian’s aftershave, his shampoo, the expensive hand cream he uses and carries with him as religiously as condoms and lube, tobacco, the heat of his skin fueled continuously with his hunger and desire and the scent of his arousal… Normal people consist of cells and atoms, but Brian is just condensed pheromones. Not even in Hollywood has Justin met anyone who wears his beauty and sexuality with the ease and grace Brian does. Tinseltown would worship him, fall at his feet… _I’ve seen the face of God_ … Brian’s name breaks from him with something between a gasp and a groan as he spins around and flings himself against the familiar chest.

Even though he was expecting it, the force of Justin scrambling up his body causes Brian to stagger against the wall. Wild kisses rain on his face, interspaced with nippy marks to his neck and wet streaks up his throat and handfuls of happy noises that refuse to let the small hair at the back of his neck lay flat again.

Lifting Justin off his feet, he finds his way instinctively into a stall and impatiently slams the door shut behind him.

He knows they’re going to feel it later... the tenderness of swollen and bruised lips... when they actually calm down enough to take the time to taste each other, but he doesn’t hold anything back when his tongue finally manages to plunge into the busy mouth. Doesn’t _want_ to… 

Justin fights him with a low growl, pushing back to be the one inside _Brian_ , and he feels his knees buckle. How is it possible that he could have forgotten how fucking hot his partner is? Or rather… he didn’t forget. He was trying not to _remember_. On purpose. Los Angeles is fucking far from the Pitts, and six months is a very long time to remember, for every minute of every day and night, how husky Justin’s voice is in the mornings… the promise of sweating skin against his… how he never grows tired of enjoying the perfect fit of their bodies when their arms and legs and lips and hands and cocks and asses get tangled into a quivering heap of limbs… 

Hastily, he unzips and pulls Justin’s jeans low over his hips, while turning him around to face the stall partition. One hand delves into his pocket for a condom, sheaths and lubes himself. The other slides down Justin’s ass, fingers shaking slightly from the tension of not pushing hard. _Yet._

“No, just fuck me.” Justin quickly pulls down his jeans all the way and shakes one foot free. Spreading his legs wide, he reaches back for Brian’s hips, and yanking them close together, forces the head of Brian’s cock to bump over his hole.

“Justin-“

“I’ve already done it.” His grip on Brian’s thighs grows stronger as he rocks back in attempt to take Brian in.

“You finger fucked yourself without me?” Brian stretches Justin’s arms above his head, curling his fingers between Justin’s over the top edge of the partition. With one hand, he cups Justin’s balls in a rolling motion, while his hips find their own rhythm in sliding his dick up and down Justin’s crack.

“I got bored waiting.”

“Did you come?” Justin’s shaft is stiff and wet in his fist, and Brian lightly traces the trail upwards until his thumb flicks over Justin’s slit. More pre-cum bubbles out and seeps down between Brian’s fingers.

“ _Fuuuck_ … Yeah… Brian, come on-”

“How many times?” _Flick-flick_ … Brian leans forward, his lips close to Justin’s ear as he takes his time to suck off his thumb, making sure Justin hears every lick and swallow. He watches Justin’s cock twitch as he swirls a fingertip around the dripping head, and more of the milky liquid disappears in streaks in Justin’s pubic hair and between his balls. His own cock is bucking against Justin’s hole, straining to be coated with more than just lube. “Justin. How…” _flick_ … “…many…” _flick… flick_ … “times?” 

“T-t-twice... _Fuckfuckfu_ -” Justin throws his hips forward, desperately trying to work up more friction between his hard-on and Brian’s hand.

“You came twice. Without me.” Brian slaps Justin’s hand away when he reaches for his dick, and Justin grunts his displeasure. “By jerking off. Did I mention _without_ me?”

“It was over ten minutes ago! And besides, I was thinking of you-” Justin’s words explode when Brian suddenly pushes through, but just far enough inside him to keep Justin’s entrance stretching over the thickest part of his erection.

“Yeah? What were you thinking?” Brian starts thrusting slowly, seizing Justin’s hips to stay in time with his. The motion between them is small, sliding the clenched ring of muscles back and forth over the tip of Brian’s cock. Conflicting pleasures ripple through him, making him tremble with indecision. He wants to fuck Justin so deep they’ll have to peel them off each other, and do it right fucking _now_. At the same time, he hovers on the delicious precipice of not quite falling… but being so, so, so... oh fuck, so fucking close…

“About you...” Justin turns his head to lick Brian’s throat, closing his eyes at the familiar saltiness spreading on his tongue. Brian’s hands snake under his shirt, bunching it up under his arms. “…taking me like this…” 

This time, Justin doesn’t fight his kiss. The greedy mouth and puffy lips and bossy tongue… all _his_ … all of Justin open… tight… his ass _just_ open enough to welcome Brian inside and then close around… Sparks ignite along the length of Brian’s cock, and digging his fingers into the slender shoulders, he pulls Justin down and penetrates him in one swift movement. Justin cries out and Brian tightens his hold across his chest.

“Uh huh. What was I doing?” Brian guides Justin’s hands back to the top of the stall, encircling his waist to hold him up while he increases his thrusts. 

“Fucking me… _Brian_ -”

“Like this?”

“No, harder.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Long strokes, each time reaching deeper, touching more, falling into the softness inside Justin... “Better?”

“Oh, shit… yeah… almost…”

“Put your foot up.” Justin manages to balance himself on the toilet bowl, leaving most of his weight on Brian’s arm, by sinking back onto Brian and taking more of him than he thought possible. It hurts. Fire searing where Brian’s cock is joined to his ass, flaming higher with every push. “Yes… fuck, _yesyesyes!_ ”

“I want to be inside you, like this, always,” Brian whispers in his neck. He palms Justin, stroking with the same urgency as he is pounding into Justin’s ass.

_…In… out… in… out… in… in… in…_

Justin listens to the change in Brian’s breathing, the shudder of his body around him, and knows he is close. _They_ are close… always…

Brian’s name is on his lips when shudder after shudder shakes through him, but Justin doesn’t hear either of their cries. Every part of him is focused on Brian shooting, filling the condom, coming inside him so hard he can feel his dick throb as if it’s his own. 

“Fuck,” Brian chokes, in between taking huge gulps of air. Justin is pressed up against the partition, and carefully Brian moves to lean back, when Justin stops him. He gives a breathless laugh, gently meshing his fingers with Justin’s and weaving them around Justin’s still hard dick. “One more for the road?”

Justin twists to meet Brian’s mouth, mindful not to turn in such a way that it will cause Brian to pull out. Their kiss is deeper than Brian is buried inside him, and burns hotter than Brian’s dick stretching his ass. “No, one more until we _get_ on the road.”

“I take it you remembered to bring Theodore’s contribution to your care package.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series is set in the Purr-fect love universe. You just need to know Brian and Justin got back together, and Justin moved into the loft, in Purr-fect love, which is an AU from 308 onwards. Justin has now been in LA for six months when he gets a ‘care package’ from home, which includes a surprise visit...

They don't just fuck when they're together.

Contrary to the diner Gospel, which firmly believes Brian isn't able to keep his cock out of Justin's ass for longer than it takes to put on a new condom, and Justin spends more time on all fours than most people do sleeping, they don't always fuck. There are times, like these, when they just kiss and touch and feel and make mostly incoherent noises.

"Want a drink?" Brian murmurs against Justin's temple, his fingers slowly getting reacquainted with the light blond hair. It’s longer than when Brian last saw him, which of course isn't surprising since it's been half a year. He likes it like this, just long enough to grab, short enough to not hide sparkling eyes.

Justin shifts slightly and Brian opens his legs wider for him to settle comfortably in between, where he belongs… where he will never be able to get out of, or up from again. His dick is the only part of him allowed to get up; in fact, it has a standing order to do so. 

Justin sighs happily and relaxes. Brian, being Brian, has made sure his visit started in the only acceptable way, with a limo to pick them up at the airport. The seats are placed along the sides, ridiculous in its luxury and perfect to stretch out on. Brian is on his back, head propped up on a couple of pillows, and one foot on the floor with Justin sprawled on top of him.

Feels fucking amazing. Who would ever have thought him, Brian Kinney, would miss someone so much that just being here with him, holding Justin close enough to hear him think, the odd moment or two that he does, would make him... make... yes, ‘happy’ will do nicely. He scrapes his nails lightly down Justin's back, under his shirt, switching to the tip of his fingers on the upward journey. 

'There is no such thing as enough.' Such a famous Kinney-belief, one that has become synonymous with his sexual appetite. It was, and still is true, there is no such thing as enough fucking... fucking Justin's ass, that is, and there is no getting enough of Justin. To be together... like this... knowing he's here, right where he fucking should be.

Justin mumbles something indistinguishable in reply to the question Brian has forgotten he asked. 

"You’d better not fall asleep."

A lazy mouth lifts just enough to bite his chin before Justin snuggles deeper into the tight embrace, one hand reaching up to stroke Brian's cheek. "Why would I do something stupid like that?"

"You always do after I fuck your brains out."

"You call that fucking my brains out?" Justin chuckles teasingly. "I haven't had your cock up my ass for six months; it's going to take a lot more than fucking me twice in a bathroom to even come close to fucking my brains out."

Brian slips his hands into the back of Justin's jeans, cupping his ass to pull them even closer. They might not be fucking, yet, but Brian still ensured nothing as stupid as clothes would interfere with any impromptu plans, and each one's jeans are loosely tucked around the hips, unzipped. Half hard cocks fit snugly, rubbing through cotton briefs, and Justin hums appreciatively at the fingers unhurriedly stroking his thighs.

"Jesus, I missed you," he suddenly says in a low voice, all the playfulness gone. "I missed you so goddamn _fucking_ much." His voice breaks on the last word and Brian's arms strengthen around him.

"I know," he whispers tentatively, barely audible. "Me too." And he did. Almost went out of his fucking mind trying to accept and live with an empty bed and empty arms and empty loft night after night, day after day. "Me too," he repeats quietly.

Justin pushes himself up, looking down at Brian as he strokes the smooth cheeks and jaw. No 5 o'clock shadow for Brian Kinney. Although, with the comfort of flying first class he wouldn't have an excuse not to shave. 

Dark eyes stare back, the interior of the car too dimly lit for Justin to see if they’re more green or more gold right now, but he does know they are not nearly as confidant as the thumb brushing across his lower lip. Holding Brian’s gaze he meshes their fingers, and kisses him with all the longing coiled around his heart and lungs and throat and his every limb, bouncing off him in waves as his need to reassure a still… or rather fucking _again_ insecure Brian increases.

He needs him to know _they_ are not just about fucking...

Grinding his hips into Brian’s, he plunges deep, adding all of his own uncertainty of being surrounded with the most beautiful people in the world for too many millions of seconds, and the only person he wanted to see apparently didn’t want to see him.

Both of them are breathing hard when Justin pulls away. He kisses the tip of Brian's nose and brushes his hair back with a pat to Brian's head. The face below him is thoughtful, and Justin’s hands still... hoping...

"It-" Brian stops. He might have come a long way in learning how to talk something other than dirty, but that doesn't make it any easier to bare his soul, even with Justin. Maybe especially with Justin. It's not exactly smart to hand bits and pieces of yourself to someone who is thousands of miles away, with no clear indication whether he was ever coming back.

Fuck that.

"It was lonely without you," Brian admits quietly. He watches the grin spreading over Justin's face, and the tension seeps from him. It was the right thing to say. For a change he fucking managed to say the right fucking thing.

"Good," Justin says smugly and Brian lifts a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Now you will appreciate me more."

Brian laughs, and cradles Justin's cheek against his shoulder.

"How long are you in town for?"

"Not sure," Brian answers, being vague on purpose. It all depends... all depends on Justin's choice..." Depends on how things go on Monday."

"Big client?"

"Is there any other kind?"

Justin chuckles, loving the feel of Brian's nipple hardening between his thumb and forefinger. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"Apart from-"

"-Apart from fucking my brains out, yes," he laughs.

"We're going dancing."

"We are?"

"Yes. With you wearing that hot pink number Emmett-"

"I didn't think you were serious," Justin frowns, imagining a club full of hot men, all of them in normal clubbing pants and shirts, and him looking like a go-go boy.

"I'm always serious when it comes to your ass, you know that."

"Yeah, but-"

"Trust me. You’ll like it."

Justin opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and closes it again. Instead he snuggles back into Brian's arms with a resigned sigh, knowing he isn't going to get anything more from his smug partner.

They are going dancing tonight, him with his ass tightly tucked into Emmett-pink shorts, and Brian wearing his best smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series is set in the Purr-fect love universe. You just need to know Brian and Justin got back together, and Justin moved into the loft, in Purr-fect love, which is an AU from 308 onwards. Justin has now been in LA for six months when he gets a ‘care package’ from home, which includes a surprise visit...

Only two hours and 42 minutes left until the club closes, and so far Brian has only fucked him once.

Fucked him once, sucked him twice, groped him all night, and kissed him non-stop. So much so that Justin has hardly had time to properly appreciate where they are. He knows it's "Pumps 'n' Pecs" night at... the club is called Pump... or is it Pumps? Or Pecs?

He barely managed to study the poster at the entrance between leaving the limo and being devoured by Brian. 

Whatever the fuck. Point being: pecs. As it turns out, the last thing he had to worry about was being conspicuous in his too tight pink shorts. In fact, judging from some of the guys they swept aside in their haste to find the backroom, Justin is overdressed.

Brian even more so, since he only takes cognizance of theme evenings in order to make sure he dresses exactly the opposite of everyone else. Which tonight means he is the only one amongst glistening torsos wearing a shirt. A black, sleeveless Armani shirt, 100% silk, perfectly cut to accentuate the toned muscles of his shoulders and upper arms.

Somehow that’s even hotter than if he had been shirtless.

Even with Brian's tongue in his mouth, Brian's forehead resting on his and making it impossible to see anything or anyone but Brian, Justin is still very much aware of the mass of bodies swaying around them. Sweaty, half-naked bodies, covered in glitter instead of shirts, sparkling under swirling colored lights, their grunting and groaning audible above the deep beat pulsing from hidden speakers.

Whatever the club’s name is, it’s not Babylon. At Babylon, rubbing up against each other is only encouraged up to a point, after which it’s expected that the action be taken to the backroom. Here… dancing doesn’t seem to be a priority.

The thought immediately shifts Justin’s attention to Brian's hands, which are currently exploring an entirely wrong part of his body. Unlocking his fingers from behind Brian’s neck, he slides his palms over Brian's shoulders, tracing the lines of muscle down his arms until his fingers tangle with Brian’s in his own hair.

Justin feels Brian smile against his mouth when he hooks their pinkies together and moves their hands down to his ass. Briefly, he digs his nails with Brian’s into the soft flesh of his thighs, groaning at the ensuing heat stiffening his cock, before guiding Brian's fingers boldly inside the back of his briefs.

Fuck subtlety. If the rest of the partygoers can play with more than just each other’s nipples, so can he.

"Having fun?" Brian purrs, with a wicked glint in his eye, as he suddenly slips his hands all the way inside, spreading Justin's cheeks teasingly with his thumbs as he pulls his body flush against his own.

His timing is perfect, as is his aim, and he smirks gleefully when Justin shivers at the sensation of his cock rubbing against Brian's, in spite of a layer of jeans and lycra between them. He knows Justin's salivating for his dick, wants it, needs it up his ass, hard and fast.

"No." Justin lifts himself up until he's balancing on the tips of his toes, now humping Brian in earnest. "There was this thing you promised me… but it doesn’t look like you’ve got the balls to do it." He cups Brian’s balls, giving them a tight squeeze to emphasize his point.

Brian squirms at the pressure. "To do what?" he hisses.

"Make up for me wearing this hideous thing," Justin says smugly, wiggling his hips to indicate the bit of pink wrapped around them. "You were going to throw me over your shoulder, remember? And carry me off to the nearest wall and fuck me senseless."

Brian makes a surprised sound when Justin deftly unzips him, pulls his cock out in one fluid motion, and cradles the wet head in his palm before closing his fist around the shaft. Involuntarily, his hands react, and in turn he pushes Justin’s shorts halfway down his thighs, enough for his cock to spring free as well.

Justin loses concentration, and his grip wavers when the air suddenly hits his damp pubic curls, sweat rivulets drying as they run down his crack. Swaying, struggling to keep his balance, his dick brushes against Brian's and they grunt as one.

Justin is the first to recover enough to string a few words together. "Strip me... fuck me up against… Christ, Brian, just-"

Brian doesn’t need any further encouragement. Swiftly, he picks Justin up, drapes him over his shoulder, and heads for the backroom with long strides. Laughter and catcalls sound, along with a rush of guys following them, not wanting to miss what is sure to be a hot show. Anything that starts like this, two beautiful, fucking hot guys, one looking more crazed than the other, can only be fabulous entertainment.

Justin's feet and pink outfit hit the floor simultaneously. He kicks the garment (and that’s being kind to the designer) aside and reaches for Brian's jeans. Brian's too quick, though, and Justin is spun around, facing the wall with his legs kicked apart before he can even get enough of a hold on Brian's jeans to yank them down.

Two fingers move inside him, and his forehead drops against the tiles. Behind him, a condom wrapper tears, shortly followed by his ass cheeks being pushed apart, pressure against his hole, fleeting pain, and then pleasure so intense his knees buckle. He gasps, and he is flattening his palms against the wall, trying to find leverage to push back, to meet every roll of Brian's hips, when a strong arm encircles his chest from behind.

"Let me," Brian whispers. He keeps one hand clenched securely on Justin's thigh and slides the other up and down Justin’s sweaty chest and abdomen, effectively rocking Justin on his cock. He thrusts deep every time he pulls Justin’s hips back, tilting the tight ass slightly upward and lifting him off his toes to take the full length of Brian’s cock.

Jesus Christ. Nothing and no one can ever feel this good. Gasping, groaning, and lost in Justin, Brian throws his head back with a low cry.

Justin has no trouble obeying Brian’s hoarse request. All strength has left his body at the sound of Brian's voice, and he couldn't have aided in them moving together, even if he wanted to. Which he doesn't. Right now he's Brian's. All of him... mind, body and soul. He is Brian's, always, to do with what he wants. And he doesn’t mind, since he knows what Brian wants to do to him, with him, is everything he wants and so much more.

He is vaguely aware of voices, and recognizes the familiar noise that always surrounds them whenever they fuck in public. However, the sounds, coupled with the smell of horny men and stale air, fade quickly from his consciousness as Brian becomes the only one he hears, the only one he smells, feels, wants... so goddamn fucking much.

With a small tug, Brian signals for Justin to lean into him, and instantly his head finds its home on Brian's shoulder. The arm around Justin's waist tightens, weaving their fingers when Justin places his hand over Brian’s. Gently, he cups Justin’s chin and tilts his mouth for a kiss.

Lips slide over each other, tongues curl and caress and beg. And suddenly everything changes. Primal hunger turns into raw want, a need so intense Brian's knuckles turn white from gripping Justin's fingers between his too hard. The frantic pounding changes pace, deepens to long strokes, each an attempt to bring Justin pleasure, to hold him close, to hold on to him.

"Justin."

Brian's voice breaks and takes Justin down with it. Crying out, he goes rigid, bucking against Brian as he comes, waves of emotion shuddering through him. Brian bites down on Justin's shoulder, his eyes screwed shut as he fights against losing control completely. Someone has to keep them standing. Someone has to clean them up, and help Justin get dressed and get back to the hotel... take him home... take Justin home...

Home. Taking Justin home. Back to Pittsburgh, back to the loft, back to Brian’s bed and his arms, which he never should have left.

_Oh, God, please._

Justin's just in time to put his hands out and break his fall when Brian unexpectedly slumps on his back, sending them both flying forward.

"Brian?" he asks in an unsteady voice, reaching behind his shoulder to slowly stroke Brian's wet hair. "You okay?"

Brian slides a quivering palm down Justin's stomach, and breathing erratically, runs his fingers between the sticky curls. Still a bit shaky, he fumbles in the pocket of his jeans, carefully pulls out his cell phone, and holds it out in front of Justin.

"Wha-"

"Call Emmett."

"But-"

"Exactly. Tell him he has great taste in _butt_ -wear."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series is set in the Purr-fect love universe. You just need to know Brian and Justin got back together, and Justin moved into the loft, in Purr-fect love, which is an AU from 308 onwards. Justin has now been in LA for six months when he gets a ‘care package’ from home, which includes a surprise visit...

As much as Brian hates to admit it, California isn't too shitty.

Which is really unfortunate.

What's not to love? Lazy days, blue skies, and beautiful bodies. He could get used to this. And he can definitely picture _Justin_ getting used to the _laid_ -back Californian lifestyle.

He probably already has. Twenty-four weeks is a long time to be exposed to Hollywood magic and not fall in love. Jesus, one day's visit was enough to send Justin head over heels all those months ago when Brett summoned him to meet with the film producers. Justin's most difficult choice, when Brett afterwards dangled the carrot in front of his nose to join the project, was probably which flight to book. Brian doesn’t know whether he struggled with making up his mind, since he never asked. Instead, he just fucked Justin every time it sounded like Justin wanted to talk about LA. To him, it was a done deal. If you're a 21-year-old who is offered a buffet of dreams, your every dream, it's a definite "I'll be there on Monday" answer. Rage was the opportunity for everything Justin had ever wanted to do with his art, while at the same time proudly declaring his rights as a gay man, his right to fuck…

Brian grins at the thought of an outspoken Justin finally being able to use his talent to express his passion, but quickly grows somber again when the implication hits home. He's almost convinced Justin is never going back to Pittsburgh. He would be fucking stupid if he did, and Brian would be the first one to tell him so.

Not that he thinks it will be necessary to tell him anything. Justin proved he isn’t fucking stupid half a year ago when Brett called, when he left for LA within days of breathlessly telling Brian his news.

After months of having Justin underfoot at the loft all the time, and not minding one fucking bit, Brian's deeply hidden expectation that it was all just too good to be true was realized.

It took less than a day for Brian to acknowledge the separation this time was worse than the fiddler fuck-up. And all because he had kept his promise to himself when they got back together, to do anything to see Justin’s "Brian smile" on a permanent basis. The one he kept for Brian only, more beautiful and bright than he ever gives anyone else. Turns out, apart from every so often participating in Justin's need to talk, sticking to his resolution wasn't that difficult. Somehow his pride and ego weren’t everything anymore. He couldn’t give a flying fuck about his public persona. Instead, he loved being able to touch Justin any time he wanted, irrespective of where they were, and to keep Justin close enough to kiss him whenever he needed to, much more than his “fuck ‘em and leave ‘em” image. He also quickly discovered a "fuck Liberty Avenue queens’ gossip about ‘Brian The Stud’ having gone soft, for a _twink_ , no less" attitude went a long way in making Justin ridiculously happy... as did it him.

The result of Brian's incessant display of affection resulted in the sun rising across Justin's face until it got stuck on the noon position. He looked more radiant, more beautiful and hot every time Brian laid eyes on him. Justin, in turn, seemed as oblivious to everyone else as Brian did. Whenever he saw Brian, his gaze would fix on him, and the clear adoration never failed to make Brian hard and breathless and leave him weak in the knees. He was hopelessly addicted to breathing Justin's scent, tasting him, feeling Justin’s body shiver at something as simple as Brian taking his hand in the diner and kissing the tip of his nose.

But then, just when he started getting used to being fucking pathetic and enjoying every moment of it, Brian's world got fucked and turned upside down with one sentence. Justin’s “I’m going to LA” would never have shaken him up as much as it did, if he hadn't trusted a blond twink enough to allow himself to try the famous falling-in-love shit.

Him, in love. So much so that he has even admitted it verbally to Justin, once or twice. In addition, he has - in his own language - never stopped telling him since the night he picked up Justin from Ian’s place and the hungry lips devoured Brian’s even before they reached the Corvette. After that, his unabashed declaration never wavered. It was there for all the world to see... if they knew how to listen. But for the most part, only Justin heard what Brian was saying with trailing fingers… soft kisses… naughty nibbles to his ear when he dared to attempt to have an intelligent conversation with someone other than Brian.

Cursing under his breath, Brian shuts his cell phone, which he is still holding after having just finished telling Ted how to do his job, and takes another deep drag from his cigarette. He places his elbows on the railing of the balcony and leans forward with his chin on his hands. His hotel suite is on the 42nd floor, overlooking the ocean, and from up here it's easy to believe the world doesn't consist of anything but sea and sand. White beaches, white foam riding endless blue waves into forever.

If only things were as clear-cut, as _blue_ and white, with Justin. Technically, according to Brian's rules, there shouldn't be a problem. Not at all. Of course, Los Angeles, with all its opportunities and possibilities, is where Justin should be. Nothing else should matter but for Justin to follow his dreams.

Except Justin staying in California _is_ a problem, because Brian's rules are all bullshit. Have been since the night they met.

Missing Justin while he was in LA hurt more than it ever did when he was with the fiddler. The Ian-fiasco was inevitable. Brian knew Justin wasn't happy at the time, and that they were in countdown for him to remove his shit from the loft. But at least then Brian managed to convince himself Justin had finally found what he wanted. Justin's happiness was all that mattered. Fuck Brian's overwhelming need to hunt him down and drag his ass back to where he belonged... underneath Brian.

When Justin finally came to his senses and returned to the loft, it was with the unsaid understanding that he would not leave again because of a third party. Both of them committed to try, to give what it takes, push their comfort zones and boundaries for each other. And it showed. It was like they had taken up residence on cloud nine.

However, they never considered what would happen when either of them had to move to another zip code as a result of work circumstances changing.

Brian groans, and his shoulders slump as he drops his head in his hands. This is what happened every time he dared think about Justin during the last six months. Sober, drunk, high, overworked and exhausted, or sleeping, he was torn in two. On the one hand, if he really cares for Justin, he should want for him to be happy, no matter what it takes. On the other hand, because he _does_ , in fact, care a whole fucking lot, he wants more than anything for Justin to be back in the Pitts. With him in the loft, and preferably permanently chained to the bed, only allowed to roam freely when it was time for a shower.

With a snort, he lights another cigarette. Well, what do you know. As it turns out, he _is_ the selfish son of a bitch everyone has always believed him to be. Even just considering placing his own needs above what is best for Justin makes him an asshole. And not only has he selfishly been thinking enough about this shit to reach the point where he had to confess he doesn't really mind having a partner, he actually decided to do something about getting his partner back. Got on a fucking plane and flew to Los Angeles to… to what? Ask Justin to give up his career because Brian finally admitted he liked having him around? And get what in return, exactly, apart from having his brains fucked out every eight hours?

Brian suddenly realizes how fucking pathetic he sounds and angrily stubs out the barely smoked cigarette. Fucking jet lag… and fucking Alex… and fucking blue eyes and warm mouth… 

He woke up this morning with his cock down Justin's throat, and ever since hasn't been able to ignore the conflicting emotions with the same _ease_ he usually does. It's never been this bad before, the pang in his gut, when he is reminded of a too quiet loft and too big bed.

He knew coming out here was a very bad, totally fucked up idea.

It's killing him as much as it makes him feel alive again to be able to hold Justin, listen to the joy in his laughter, watch the corners of the beautiful mouth curl upwards while blue eyes grow wide and exuberant at not having to dial a number first to hear Brian's voice.

But worse than knowing this time saying goodbye is going to be even more difficult, is not having succeeded so far in keeping the small spark of hope that he might not be returning to Pittsburgh alone from growing. After all, Justin hasn't said in so many words yet he is staying in California, now that Rage has been put on hold.

And if Justin does decide to give it all up? If he does decide to turn his back on a city that can offer him so much more than the Pitts ever can?… Than Brian ever can?… Then Brian will have to put his own needs aside once more and convince Justin the loft isn't…

Abruptly, Brian spins around and heads for the sliding glass doors with a determined look on his face. Enough with the self-analyzing bullshit. His philosophy of never seeing a psychologist should have included not coming near silver-headed ones skulking in the dark corners of popular drinking establishments. Fucking Alex, always offering to buy him a beer when they run into each other at Woody's, and always interested in knowing how Brian's doing… _how's_ Justin... and never getting the curt "none of your fucking business" answer from Brian he deserved.

Inside the suite, Brian has to blink his eyes a couple of times to adjust to the light after having been outside. His eyebrows rise when he spots a very comfortable-looking Justin, naked, stretched out on the couch, leisurely stroking his cock. "What the fuck are you doing?" he scolds, and exchanges his cell phone for a condom and lube on a nearby table before starting across the room.

Justin chuckles at Brian's make-believe indignation. Reaching behind him, he fluffs the cushions under his head and back and spreads his legs enthusiastically. "What does it look like I'm doing?" With a dramatic moan, he rubs his thumb over his dick's wet head, bucking involuntarily into his hand at the sudden sensation.

"It had better _not_ be what it looks like, because if you're jerking off by yourself..." Brian trails off, leaving it up to Justin's imagination to figure out the unsaid threats and promises, and which one he likes best.

"Uh huh." Lust-filled eyes fix on Brian's hands when he rolls the condom down his already hard dick. "I'm just staying warmed up for you." Justin runs the tip of his tongue over his lips and flashes Brian a wicked grin. "That was a fucking long phone call."

Brian promptly forgets all about the "what ifs" and "buts" circling his sanity like hungry sharks. With a smirk that rivals Justin's, he saunters over, while fucking his fist with long strokes. By the time he reaches Justin, his partner is propped up on the cushions, feet firmly planted on either side of his thighs and knees pulled up and spread wide. Heat sparks through Brian at the sight of a wanton Justin, his hole clearly visible, still open and glistening with lube from before they were so rudely interrupted by the ringing of Brian's phone.

He takes Justin by surprise when he kneels in between his legs and, without warning, pushes into him with one strong thrust, immediately burying his cock deep. But once inside, his body covering Justin's and his hands flat on either side of Justin's face, he goes still. Blue eyes smile up at him in understanding when he nudges Justin's nose with his. No slamming into Justin's ass to get them both off as quickly as possible. The one thing they have so little of is the one thing Brian wants most: time.

"I love your cock," Justin whispers just before Brian's teeth find his lower lip.

Such a sweet mouth. Lazy tongues stroking. Justin's seeking his, sharing warmth and spit until he can't taste Justin anymore... only them.

"Like this, deep inside my ass," Justin continues quietly, adding fuel to the fire already consuming all of Brian. "Slow." To illustrate his point, Justin wraps his legs over Brian's lower back and clamps down on his cock.

Brian groans, his breathing becoming labored. His hands find Justin's, fingers curling together as he pins them above Justin's head. They're both sweating profusely, adding to the intoxicating smell of sex and desire already filling the room like a heavy blanket, wrapped around them. Fuck, he can't live without this. He can't imagine continuing an existence of going day to day without hungry fingers massaging his scalp and tugging on clumps of hair, before running down the side of his face, cupping his cheeks. Involuntarily, his ass and thigh muscles clench at the thought, causing his cock to twitch. Soft sounds of pleasure and encouragement vibrate low in Justin's throat, accompanied by hips relaxing under his when Justin attempts to open up and take even more of him. 

Unexpectedly, Brian pulls out, carefully keeping the condom in place with one hand and prodding Justin's hip with the other. It takes Justin a second to realize what Brian wants, but then he eagerly rolls over onto his right side to make room for Brian between him and the back of the couch. Brian barely has time to spoon behind Justin before he drapes his left leg over Brian's propped up knee. Brian smirks with self-satisfaction and enters him slowly, both of them on their sides, Justin's back glued to Brian's chest.

"Fuck, yes," Justin half sighs, half grunts. He drops his leg and pulls it up to his stomach once Brian is fully inside.

Brian gives an incoherent reply, desire flaring through his cock as Justin's ass tightens around him. He could stay like this forever, pushing in deep and pulling back, just far enough every time to drive them both to the edge and keep them there for however long his self-control holds. Which is usually an embarrassingly short time.

He slides one arm underneath Justin's neck, pulling him close until the blond head is cradled on his shoulder. The subtle scent of ylang-ylang and sage fills his nose and he inhales deeply, allowing the familiar smell of Justin's shampoo to stir so many memories… vivid images of him washing Justin's hair… burying his fingers in damp, tousled strands when Justin's cum surges between them… brushing the soft hair back when kissing him hello after a long day at work… Christ, he missed Justin. Every fucking thing about him. His shit scattered all over the loft, a stray pencil on the hardwood floor just waiting to assault Brian's bare feet, his underwear getting mixed up with Brian's because he just dumps the clean laundry in the nearest drawer (at least he had started picking up his clothes)... He especially missed Justin's underwear in his drawer.

It's as if Justin reads his mind.

"Fuck, I missed this," he murmurs as Brian's touch moves back to his dick with unhurried strokes. For a moment, Brian loses his rhythm, but Justin seems too caught up to notice the sudden tension in his grip isn't from Brian’s impatient dick urging him to speed up the proceedings. Instead, he turns slightly in Brian's arms, tipping his head back, and brings his hand up to cup Brian's face.

The light play of tongues and lips turns slowly deeper, more urgent, accompanied by their individual "I want you" and "fuck me" and "I love you" noises they both know so well.

Which is when Justin spoils everything by bringing up _the_ subject. "I've been thinking... uh, that feels good," he interrupts himself and tilts his hips toward Brian's hand.

…Of course he has. "Yeah?" Brian remarks, noncommittal. Automatically, his thrusts grow stronger in keeping with the increase of the unease bundling in his stomach. His strokes lengthen, but at the same time, the rolling of his hips slows down even more, with longer pauses in between pushing inside Justin and staying buried deep in the warmth it took him almost three years and a fucking fiddler to admit he can't do without. Amongst other things.

"One of Brett's friends offered me a job last week."

Even though he expected it, the announcement is still like a bucket of cold water in Brian's face. Ice cubes rattle through his veins, shaking him up until all his senses are on over-drive. The humming of the air conditioner in the background is too loud, along with the beating of his heart. His cock is throbbing with a painful combination of elation and misery, as if it already knows it will never feel this good again. Sweat suddenly runs in rivers down the sides of his face and in between him and Justin… Skin sliding on skin, fingers slipping… There's a coppery taste in his mouth, which try as he might, he can't seem to get rid of, no matter how many times he swallows. Water… Beam… for shit Snapple… Fucking dry California air… 

"He runs a graphics company and wants me to join the animation department."

"Just like you've always wanted," Brian manages quietly, not realizing he's curled around his partner in a tight ball with his arms clenched across Justin's chest. His dick has gone from horny to pathetically needy, held in place, deep inside Justin, by his straining thigh and ass muscles working hard not to allow so much as an inch of space between them.

"I guess."

"What about Rage?"

"Not going to happen. I talked to a couple of people about it. They all said the same thing. Projects don't get put on hold, not in Hollywood. It's over."

One heartbeat… _Breathe_ … Two. "I'm sorry."

Justin gives a sad little laugh. "Sorry is bullshit."

"Not always," Brian reminds him of the words Justin has said to him often enough. He takes a lungful of the suddenly stuffy air surrounding them, inhaling noiselessly through his mouth. So be it. He's made his peace. Justin's never coming home again. He'll stay a couple of days more, not to rouse Justin's suspicion by abruptly taking off after he had already told him he had business in LA - which he didn't. It's easy enough to tell Justin his client cancelled. The only reason he came out to the West coast was to see Justin for one last time. To fuck his brains out for a few days before returning to the Pitts, alone. Which is fine. As long as Justin's happy. Nothing else matters. "I know how much this meant to you."

"Mmm."

"When do you start?" Brian asks after another long moment's silence. He forces himself to relax, and carefully exchanges his attempt of squeezing the breath from Justin's chest for trailing his palms up and down Justin's stomach… down his sides… forward over his thighs until the soft velvet of Justin's dick once again melts in his hands.

"Jesus, do that again… Fuck, Brian, yeees… I… _uuuh_ … I'm not."

"What the fuck?"

Justin sighs and momentarily forgets about the burning desire between his legs as he reaches back over his hip, digging his nails into Brian's ass cheeks for leverage when he twists his upper body around to face Brian. The fuck if his stubborn partner is going anywhere (like he is bound to try any minute now) before they've finished this conversation, and the most effective method of ensuring he doesn't take off or shut down completely is keeping him very much aware of his dick in Justin's ass. It's the one failsafe way of holding onto him, in more ways than one. 

"I'm not taking the job."

Brian blinks and tries to shake off the strong grip on his chin. _Christ! Let… go…_ "Justin, you can't-" … _No, no, fuck… don't let..._

"This isn't my home, Brian. It was never meant to be. I expected to be here for a couple of months, maybe as long as a year, and that would have been fine. But this isn't where I want to be for the rest of my life."

The obvious question is screaming in Brian's head, but he clamps his mouth shut with iron resolution. No fucking way is he asking _why_.

He doesn't have to.

"You're where I want to be. You're the one I want to be with. You're all I've ever wanted, all I'll ever need." Justin's voice is as soft as the fingers now fluttering down the side of Brian's face.

Gripping Justin's hand, Brian lets his head fall back against the back of the couch, the by now so nauseatingly familiar arguments tearing through him once more. This is what he was hoping to hear, what he wants so much to be true.

And yet...

Just before he gets to reiterate the "Brian, don't be an asshole" argument... the one where he lets Justin live his dream and sells him on staying in LA... Alex's voice floats unbidden through his mind, as has been happening more and more often. 

His words are as clear as the day he first said them to Brian. (He really should make a point of getting very drunk before running into his stalker-shrink.) "If you really love him, Brian, then show him. Show him you trust him and respect him enough to let him make his own choices. And his own mistakes. You can't spend the rest of your life trying to make up for the times _you_ feel you've failed him in the past, or trying to prevent him from getting hurt again, either by you, or someone else."

Brian could tell Alex was waiting for him to answer, but he'd refused to be baited. He also refused to look up. Instead, he huffed at the foam on top of his beer, moodily staring into the amber liquid. Alex sighed and got up. "He needs a partner, Brian, not a babysitter. He never has." And with those last words of profound wisdom, Alex disappeared. Brian heaved a sigh of relief, downed his beer, and went off in search of a blow job in the bathroom. Only, he never made it to the bathroom. Somehow he ended up at the loft, alone on a Friday night, after only one drink.

Fucking Alex. And fuck if Brian didn't know deep down that he was right. He might have gotten two sons on one night... one a newborn and the other a horny virgin... but he was by far the one more in need of babysitting on occasion than Justin had ever been. 

"You're sure."

For a long moment, they stare at each other, before Justin's eyebrows climb slowly upwards, accompanied by a huge grin. He pulls Brian's head down for a long, deep kiss, not letting Brian pull away until they're both out of breath.

"What?" Brian asks, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when Justin laughs, his voice airy and light. Happy. _Happy_.

"I was expecting you to put up much more of a fight. I didn't think you were going to accept my decision so easily. You always think you know better than I do when it comes to my career," Justin says, only half teasing.

"Do you _want_ me to put up a fight?"

"No. Oh god, please don't." Justin's voice is suddenly urgent. "I just want to come home to you... _if_ ," he hastily adds, suddenly sounding unsure, "...that's what you want."

Brian doesn't waste any time on answering stupid questions. Justin's lips are trembling beneath his, his cock wet in Brian's fist when he leisurely resumes stroking it, his own dick slow, pumping into Justin's ass in matching rhythm with the bucking of Justin's hips.

No reason to hurry anymore. They've got all the time in the world.

Justin isn't going anywhere again without Brian staying within kissing distance.

***

"You haven't told me about this client of yours? Who are they?"

"There is no client."

“…”

“…”

"Don't tell me you came all the way to LA to-"

"……Here."

"What?…… What's this?"

"Part of your care package. Somehow it got left behind, so I thought I'd deliver it in person."

"…A one-way ticket, LA to Pittsburgh? But...... I don't understand?"

"..."

"Brian..."

"Let's just say it was part of a presentation to convince the next Spielberg to settle down in the Pitts, rather than LA."

"Yeah? What else was included in the sales pitch?"

"…Me."

"……"

"……"

"Okay, Mr Kinney, I'll sign with you. On one condition."

"…"

"I don't want to be your client. I want to be your partner. In everything, not just the stuff you think I can handle. Equal partners. We discuss things. You don't fucking decide for me because you _think_ you know better than I do what's best for me and what I should-"

"Deal."


End file.
